Page 11

Chapter 11

Kabir

“Open.”

With a quick swallow, he obeys.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Jaw relaxed, he opens wider, keeping his bright blue eyes locked with mine.

“Hold it.” I make quick work of dropping my athletic trousers. Then I bend low, grip his chin to position his perfect face right where I want it, and spit directly into his mouth.

A sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him and travels right to my groin.

Dear gods.

This boy’s needy little noises will have me coming without contact if I’m not careful.

I restrain from telling him as much. If Hunter is not with us, it’s technically not a scene, and I will always respect his limits. Levi may be on his knees for me—he may be my undoing—but he is in every way my equal in this moment.

As I straighten, I savor the sight of my wet wad coating his tongue as he waits for further instruction.

“What are you waiting for, Champ?” I tighten my hold on his hair. “It’s not going to suck itself.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he springs into action: gripping my base with one hand while fondling my sack with the other. When my sheathed head breeches his mouth, we both moan.

He’s sensational.

I fight the instinct to close my eyes. I don’t want to miss a moment of this show.

He’s beautiful. Rosy cheeks. Puffy lips and wide eyes. Exertion causing sweat to bead at his hairline and his blond curls to stick to his skin.

Our shared saliva drips down his face as he makes a fucking feast of my tip. He pulls back my foreskin, lapping ravenously at my glands, and pumps me harder. Harder. Faster.

My cock twitches eagerly.

The intensity is divine. The roughness. The depth at which he takes me. The way he maintains eye contact as he pulls back, then catches the string of saliva connecting us and smears it over his prominent Adam’s apple.

“That’s it, Champ. Paint yourself with us.”

He’s a sight. He’s my sole focus and total fixation.

Back at it, he sucks harder and bobs faster. Fuck. This is, without a doubt, the sloppiest, sexiest blowjob of my life. I love it. I crave it, as proven by the precum leaking out of me.

“Okay?” I ask, gripping his curls with both hands and steering him closer.

He nods, and the sensation causes my knees to quiver.

Repositioning myself, I look down at his gorgeous face, stuffed full of cock and cradled in my hands.

He’s gorgeous. So brilliantly beautiful. But together? We’re a masterpiece: flushed skin and puffy pink lips stretched around my cock, his pale face framed by my darker hands.

“I want to fuck your throat so deep we can’t tell whether it’s your tears or my cum seeping out of you.”

He pops off my cock. “Fuck. Yes. I’m ready.”

Repositioning himself, he takes more of me.

“Relax for me, Champ.” With two fingers, I trace his throat from chin to chest.

He exhales through his nose, his jaw dropping farther.

When my crown meets resistance, I bite back a moan. “That’s it,” I encourage. “Clear your mind. Swallow, Levi.”

He does.

I almost combust.

“Keep swallowing,” I grit out.

With each contraction, my cock creeps farther down his throat. Connecting us. Forging a path I never want to stray from, in this lifetime or in any of the rest.

Filling…

Filling…

So fucking full.

When my pelvis grazes his face, I’m home.

When I meet his eager gaze, I’m reborn.

When I cup his cheeks reverently, then use my thumbs to wipe away the tears leaking from both eyes, my lust reaches its peak, boiling over, spilling out. Transforming to love.

“Swallow again for me, Champ. I’m there. I’m right there, but only you can push me over the edge.”

With obvious effort, he works down a thick swallow.

The slight contraction and the sight of him send me toppling. Spinning. Crashing. Coming.

Becoming .

I roll my hips back, easing up a fraction as I spill my seed down his throat.

“That’s it. Fucking perfect. Such a good boy, taking me all the fucking way.”

We’re both panting when we break apart.

Quickly, I clutch his face. “Don’t swallow the last of it.”

His eyes spark as he presses his lips together to seal me in.

“Rise.”

Carefully, he pushes himself to standing.

When he’s on his feet, I hold a hand out beneath his chin. “Spit.”

As soon as I have the wet wad, I turn him and shove him against the wall.

With my mouth at his ear, I whisper, “Now turn your head toward the mirror and watch.”

“Fuck.” He’s still panting as he rests his cheek on the wall, then meets my gaze in the mirror across from where we stand.

With my free hand, I caress the globes of his ass, then tease the seam between them through the mesh material covering him. “May I enter?”

He nods.

“Words, Levi. I need your words.” I grind my pelvis against him. “I want to finger your ass, massage your prostate, and jerk you to completion. Do I have your consent?”

“Yes.” The word leaves him in a rush of air. He clears his throat, and this time, when he speaks, his tone is firm. “Fuck yes.”

“Watch me as I work you over, Champ. See for yourself just how ravenous I am for every piece of you.”

After I’ve tugged his waistband past his knees, I toy with his ass, smearing his spit and my cum around his puckered hole before pressing one finger inside him. I fist as much of his cock as I can handle with my other hand while using my weight to keep him firmly against the wall.

I ease into him a few times, stretching, prepping, and playing. Committing this moment to memory. It’s the first time I’ve breached him. The first time he’s allowed me inside.

I kiss his neck and lick the sweat from his skin.

Sighing, he lets his head fall forward, though his eyes stay fixed on our reflection. I add a second finger, quickly find his prostate, and caress him from the inside.

The moan that escapes him is instantaneous.

I capture his mouth in a kiss and jack his cock in time with my more subtle movements inside him.

When my lungs are starved for oxygen, I break off the kiss and suck in a breath.

“Levi.” My chest tightens, despite the deep inhale. Nerves steal my resolve as an overwhelming sensation—part peace, part fear, part excitement—washes over me.

His breathing increases, his entire torso heaving, his lower extremities tense. “Spence.”

In that moment, all fear leaves me.

“Levi,” I croak out. “I love you.”

As if in response to my declaration, he shouts, contracts around my fingers, and spills all over my hand.

I work him through it—caressing and stroking with the gentlest of touches, cognizant of how sensitive he must be.

With his chin tucked to his chest, he forces a harsh inhale, then releases a deep, satisfied sigh. Then he lifts his head and finds my reflection once more, a glazed, satisfied smirk on his face.

“Did you just tell me you love me while playing me like a fiddle?”

I guffaw, trying to place the word fiddle. It’s an instrument, I believe. Similar to a viola?

“Hey.” He laughs, though the sound is a nervous one. “I’m teasing.” He turns, slumps against the wall, and pulls me into his arms.

“I…” He swallows hard, searching my face.

In return, I search his, pouring every drop of sincerity and reassurance I can muster into the look.

“I love you, too.” He lowers his forehead to mine and rests it there. “I love you so much,” he repeats with a heavy sigh. Quieter, he adds, “I hope it feels like this forever.”

I shake my head, my forehead rubbing against his. “It won’t.”

Rearing back, he locks questioning eyes on me.

“One day soon, we won’t have to worry about Magnolia. We’ll be in our own home. We’ll be together—all of us—and it’ll feel so much better than we could have ever imagined.”

The power of his dreamy smile hits me like a metric ton to the gut. I’ll do everything in my power to make him smile like this for the rest of our days. I’ll stop at nothing to make him happy—to care for all of them. With everything I am, I swear to gods, I’ll focus all my energy and commit every dollar in my name to delivering on my promise to this man.